


All Those Chains You Bear

by KestrelGirl



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angst and Feels, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Lunari (League of Legends), Ritual Poisoning, Sad, Separated Twins, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KestrelGirl/pseuds/KestrelGirl
Summary: This is my first LoL fic! Looks to me like there's a dearth of gen Aphelios content out there, so I figured I'd make my contribution to this very small category: an exploration of his emotions, behind the mask of silence.Title's from the lyrics to his theme, of course. I did a cover of that not too long ago, so I guess I've really been on a... Phels trip lately, huh? Sorry, that was bad.
Kudos: 16





	All Those Chains You Bear

Breathe.

Come on. I've done this dozens of times. Have to just - breathe -

Dammit.

Every time, I seize up and let go of the bowl. That moment of weakness could kill me. Can't let that keep happening.

But it's too late to try again now.

A familiar surge of energy rushes through me, forcing every muscle in my body under its caustic, unforgiving whim. But that's the price I pay to... not even to speak with her. Just to _be with_ her.

As much as the poison shakes me to the core, it cuts deeper that I may never see my sister again. Our orbits, our paths in life, led us to separate realms, with this ritual the only way for her to find me.

I drop to the ground, catching myself with one hand. My throat tightens, and my breaths become shallow. It’s almost over. A voice creeps into my mind as I cough and sputter, no longer able to cry out. It is faint and distorted at first, growing ever clearer like the moon emerging from behind clouds.

_Aphelios._

_I'm here. It's okay._

I just wish I could talk with Alune for a while. I try to say her name, but I can only choke out a pitiful noise.

_It always starts with pain. I'm sorry._

I kneel, letting myself recover between gasps for air. Another moment of vulnerability, but one I can use to collect my thoughts.

_We have work to do. Raiders took one of our relics. Show them the moon's light._

If only I could answer. I must do that through action.

I stand up, as tense as a drawn bowstring, and leave the gloom of the temple. Every movement I make is awkward, but… I’ll get used to it.

After all, I have to.

* * *

_They're camped near the Rakkor, hiding from their wrath. Would-be climbers of Targon, carried away by their own greed. Even the Solari can't pardon thieves._

I'm not far now, but traveling around Targon’s slopes like this is deeply exhausting - more than fighting. But I never know what could ambush me in the night, and I need Alune. I can fight without the noctum, but not without her.

The dull ache breaks my focus and overwhelms my senses. I have to force myself to track a lone, unfamiliar war whoop, echoing from the valley below. My quarry.

_There they are. Take this._

_Calibrum._

Gleaming stone and metal work their way into the physical realm, taking a slender form in my outstretched hands. The rifle Calibrum is all too familiar, a weapon I can use for anything. I can probably get a good angle from that ledge a few paces away. The brigands are downhill.

Breathe, focus... fire. A bolt of magic flies from my weapon, piercing a man who was standing close enough to my perch that I can see him bleed silver. They'll be looking for me now. I need to enter the fray.

_You're fading a bit. Our thoughts separate._

I rarely dread words. These, however, the thought of having to take more noctum… I feel a pang of fear, through the numbness.

I crouch out of view, and take just another sip. The liquid glows like moonlit waters, even more than the night-blooming flower from which I distilled it. It is at once my strength, and the single thing most likely to end my life.

The fresh wave of agony always stops me in my tracks. But this time, I collapse. My limbs jerk, and I’m breathing hard, too hard. I lose control of myself, convulsing as my body rails against the poison in my veins. And then I panic, a primal terror that cuts through even the strongest of my walls.

Even if there were help nearby, I couldn’t scream for it - the best I can do is grunt. I can’t die like this -

_Steady, Phel. I’m still here. Starforger’s claws, you’re foaming at the mouth… Breathe. Let it pass._

I think it’s only been a few seconds, but it seems like an eternity before the spasms end. It’ll be a while before I can take on even one attacker, but I don’t know if that will mean minutes or hours. I rest, curled into a ball, recovering what little I can as the noctum urges every fiber in me to move, to fight.

The outlaws still haven’t found me, even after all this. Did Alune misdirect them, or are they merely so stupid that they can’t check the high ground?

Regardless… I wish I could thank her, that she could hear me.

At last I rise, still trembling, and head downhill.

* * *

_Crescendum._

The firearm fades, and I reach for another - for Alune. The next weapon to enter my grasp is a chakram, round as the full moon.

There are only six people left in the camp. They're clearly confused. And no wonder; the Burning Ones stamp out whatever they can find of my people.

Of course, they finally grasp what happened when they see me striding toward the windswept clearing they’ve staked out. They cease their fireside chatter, and walk over to meet me. They expect a bargain. After all, one man cannot stand against a group - in their homeland.

"Whaddya want, kid?" The leader's Targonian is... shoddy at best.

I still try to give ultimatums sometimes, out of habit. This is one of them. It’s… embarrassing, not being able to force out a single word when I need it.

"Wildclaw got your tongue?" I don't understand the turn of phrase - it's not in any dialect of Targonian - but Alune laughs as she translates it for me.

Unlike my sister, I don’t have time for jokes. I look the ringleader straight in the eye, and with a flick of the wrist, I send the blade flying.

I'm still stiff, sore, exhausted. But adrenaline is stronger, and I need to stay alive.

I weave between the warriors. They seem clumsy, and they all wield slow, heavy weapons that they now have to reach for. And like most foreigners, they’re unused to the thin mountain air. In seconds, the leader is on the ground, his blood shimmering just like his friend’s.

But the rest are ready now. I've taken on more than five before, and the chakram easily leaves wounds in every one. A woman with a club covered in ice tries to swing at me. She misses, but her companion's axe lands low, grazing my leg.

_Severum? Yes. You’ll need it._

I catch the chakram in my left hand, and it disintegrates, leaving this realm. The scythe that forms in my right hand is even smaller, but it fires a spread of magic that saps the life from the hooligans. I feel better, and my own wound shines as it knits itself together.

_They're faltering. You can do it, Phel - watch out!_

Her voice becomes urgent, ringing in my head, and I realize there's a greatsword headed for my neck.

Time slows down.

Only one way to save myself -

_I am with you._

\- with the only words I wish I could see her say to me.

I throw my head back and let out a guttural roar. My throat burns from the effort, a feeling that spreads through me. Lunar power surges outward, staggering the few barbarians still standing.

But when the searing sensation ebbs, and ceases to cloud my vision, the cowards lie dead around me.

_It’s over, Phel._

_Give them traitors' burials before the sun rises. Their supplies will feed the Lunari._

_I'm sorry it has to be this way, brother._

My muscles relax as Alune speaks, and her voice begins to fade from my mind. I call out for her - she might be the only one who understands whatever came out -

And she's gone.

The moon is cruel, to keep us so far apart.

For a moment, my mind swims, trying to think of a way to get her back, get her out of that lonely temple beyond this world… no. I can’t give in to that.

I'll bury these friendless fallen, and take back the stolen symbol of our faith. But perhaps I’ll do that closer to dawn. For now, I sit and reflect, surrounded by the carnage I wrought. To ground myself.

To remember the pain, to relive it, to force myself back to reality - away from her.

To feel anything else beside that pain, to hear my own voice again as the noctum releases its stranglehold.

To mourn.


End file.
